12 Days of Christmas
by Star Trek 09
Summary: John's favorite holiday is Christmas. Sherlock doesn't know what to get him for a present, so he gets his idea from a Christmas carol. It doesn't go well... Sherlock/John
1. Chapter 1

"You know what Sherlock?" John asked.

"Hm?" he responded, not looking up from the computer screen.

"Its almost Christmas."

"So?"

"'So?'" he repeats. "So its one of my favorite holidays."

"That's nice," Sherlock replied. John sighed, knowing that he wouldn't get a real response out of Sherlock anytime soon; they were in the middle of a case and Sherlock wasn't paying attention to anything else. He grabbed the radio and turned it on, the lyrics to some stupid song filling the room.

Sherlock leaps up, "What is that?"

"A Christmas carol," John replied hesitantly, startled by the reaction.

"A _what?_" Sherlock hissed.

"A Christmas carol. Haven't you ever heard one before?"

Sherlock paused and considered it for a minute, "No. I haven't."

"What?" John scoffed. "You've never heard a _Christmas carol?_"

"Really John, all this repeating is getting annoying."

He sighed, "I know, but how have you never heard a Christmas carol?"

Sherlock shrugged and walked over to the radio, flicking it off and then going back to work.

"Sherlock, I was listening to that."

"That is true. You _were _listening to it. Now you're not and you won't be for a very long time."

John mumbled something about Sherlock being a pain in the butt and turned the music back on. For a few minutes the only sound in the room was the song.

"Would you turn that off?" Sherlock asked.

"No," John replies stubbornly.

"John," he could have sworn that Sherlock was _whining_. He really was a two-year-old.

"Uhg. Fine," he relented and turned off the radio.

Suddenly, Sherlock stood up. "I have to go," he announced.

"That's nice. I'll be here."

After Sherlock had grabbed his coat and marched out of the flat, John leapt up and turned the radio back on.

"So why have you kidnapped me now?"

Mycroft shrugged, "Just to talk. Are you doing anything for Christmas?"

"Apparently Christmas is one of John's favorite holidays," Sherlock confided to Mycroft, still glaring about being kidnapped. At least it gave him something to do, though. They had solved the case and John was off on a date, leaving Sherlock alone and _bored_. Normally he wouldn't be talking to Mycroft about _anything_ let alone things about John, but he had _nothing _else to do. Plus, Mycroft wouldn't let him leave until he said something.

"So what are you going to do?" his annoying brother asked.

Sherlock returned his attention to the man across from him, "I don't know. Suffer."

"You're not going to buy him a present?"

"No. Why would I buy him a present?"

Mycroft sighed, sometimes his brother was a real idiot, "Because that's what people do on Christmas."'

"They do? Well it doesn't matter anyway," Sherlock cut off Mycroft when he opened his mouth. "I'm going to avoid the flat as much as I can."

"Why?"

"I can't stand Christmas carols," he admitted.

Mycroft struggled to contain his laughter, "Really? Well not _all _of them are terrible."

"I doubt that."

"Just listen to some, maybe you'll find one you like. Or," he added hastily as Sherlock rolled his eyes, "at least learn how to ignore them."

"I doubt that," he repeated, rising. "Goodbye, Mycroft."

Mycroft, lost in thought, nodded as Sherlock left. How could he help?

After an insufferable ride with a cabbie who _wouldn't shut up_, Sherlock finally entered his flat. John was gone when he arrived, so Sherlock sat down, enjoying the quiet. A moment passed before he noticed the quiet music coming from across the room.

He stalked across the room, reaching for the off button before turning it up. Maybe it would help him get used to the stupid music.

_Silver bells, silver bells__  
__It's Christmas time in the city  
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring  
Soon it will be Christmas day_

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks  
Dressed in holiday style  
In the air there's a feeling of Christmas  
Children laughing, people passing  
Meeting smile after smile  
And on every street corner you'll hear

Silver bells, silver bells  
It's Christmas time in the city  
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring  
Soon it will be Christmas day

Were all Christmas carols so bad? Some had lyrics that don't even make sense. Sherlock sighed and reached over to flick off the radio. This wasn't helping; it was just annoying.

The song ended and another started. He paused and tilted his head. What were those lyrics? It was quite a strange song. Wait… Mycroft said that he should get John a present. A grin spread across his face as a plan formed. This could work…


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hi. I know, I'm late. You should read my sister, PerLuminisPropinquus's, story, Noel. It's better than mine.

AristaHolmes: Thanks! I'll have to read yours.

Darmed: Sorry. I was thinking about it, but I decided to do something different.

Chapter 2

"Hi," John greeted as Sarah opened the door.

She smiled, "Hi. How are you?"

"Fine. I can't wait till Christmas."

"Me neither," she grinned.

"You ready to go?" John asked

"Yep. Where are we going?" Sarah asked. She still didn't know where they were going; John had wanted the place they were going to be a surprise.

"Park," he announced. She nodded and walked out with him.

John walked into the flat and collapsed on the couch.

"How'd your date go?" Sherlock asked.

"Ok. I took her to the park," he replied, "but it started snowing. She doesn't like the snow. I do. It's snowing a lot harder now." Sherlock groaned. He hated the snow. It was too cold. "Hey, what are you listening to? Is that a Christmas carol?"

Sherlock nodded and turned it up slightly so that he could hear better, "Yes. I found one station that didn't have _terrible _songs, but they don't have any really good ones."

_Snowball fight after school today  
pack it fucking hard  
throw it at your face  
snowballs turn to ice  
we're at war _

John paused and listened for a minute, "Wait is this that snowball fight song by the Weekend Nachos with kids dying?"

Sherlock nodded.

"That's horrible."

_Blood in the snow  
water mixed with gore  
the kids are dying  
violence in the snow_

Sherlock glared as he got the text from the DI. It was a case (probably ridiculously easy), so it gave him something to do, but it involved going outside. In the snow. Sherlock hated the snow.

"Come on John. We have a case," Sherlock called, bounding down the stairs. No one was on the street because they were avoiding the snow. He was trying to figure out what the case could be about when something struck him in the back. Another thing hit him in the back of his head, and he turned slowly. John was grinning slightly and hiding his hands behind his back.

"What was that?" Sherlock hissed.

John shrugged, "I don't know."

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes before snapping them back open when something struck his chest. He looked down at the snow on his coat and glared at John, "What are you doing?"

"Snow ball fight," John replied.

"What?"

"A snow ball fight," he repeats. "Haven't you ever been in a snowball fight?" Sherlock shook his head and John sighed. "All you do is pack snow into a ball and throw it at the other person. Like this." He removed his hands from behind his back and whipped the snowball at Sherlock.

"That isn't fun," Sherlock complained.

"It is when you actually _throw _a snow ball. Try it." Sherlock sighed and picked up a handful of snow, packed it into a ball, and threw it at John. John threw one back and they continued to fight. John was laughing like crazy and throwing the balls haphazardly. He shrieked each time he was hit. John was right; it actually was sort of fun. Well, until a stray snowball hid someone walking past and they took revenge by throwing one back. At Sherlock's face.

"Ow," he moaned. "Am I bleeding?"

John laughed, "No. You're not bleeding. Come on let's go. Lestrade is probably waiting for us."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: The days in this month seem to be strangely long. School has been eating my life, but I'll try to fix the updates...

Darmed- Are you stalking me? I post a chapter and five seconds later you have reviewed it. Anyway, I agree. They should break up. Thanks.

XMillieX- I would too. XD

Chapter 3

_Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer _

_had a very shiny nose. __  
__And if you ever saw him, __  
__you would even say it glows. _

"What's the case?" John asked as he walked into Lestrade's office with Sherlock.

"A murder. The girl was killed right down the road from you."

"Why didn't you just tell us that instead of dragging us down here?" Sherlock wasn't in a good mood. He had almost frozen on the walk down even with all his layers of clothes. The snow probably didn't help.

"I thought you would want to talk to the mother," Lestrade shrugged.

"What did she say?" Sherlock questioned.

"Talk to her yourself," Lestrade lead them to the interrogation room.

Sherlock nodded and beckoned to John, "Come John."

John sighed but followed. The mother was sitting at the table crying and looked up when they came in. "I didn't do it," she immediately claimed.

"Then who did?"

Oh Sherlock. Always so sensitive. John glared at Sherlock quickly before paying attention to the mother again.

"Was anyone angry at your daughter for something?"

"I don't think so… Jamie was so sweet. She was never mean and always polite. Well, Mary was mad at her, and so was Alison," she admits.

"Why were they mad?" Sherlock was watching the mother as John talked to her.

"She had been over at her friend, Alison's house. Mary, her mother, had left them alone with her two year old, Devin. Alison went out for a bit and left Jamie with Devin. He started to choke. Jamie tried to save him, but he died. They've been angry with her since. I thought that Ali had forgiven her, though. Apparently not," she had started crying again and Sherlock and John left.

"So, do you think Mary did it?" John asked, trying to figure out what Sherlock was thinking.

"No. Too easy."

John realized that Sherlock wouldn't talk anymore and left him alone.

"You done talking to the mother?" Lestrade asked when he noticed them.

"Yes," Sherlock brusquely replied. He was getting sick of the interruptions.

Lestrade nodded, ignoring Sherlock's rudeness, "Come on. Ill take you to the scene."

"What's the address?" Sherlock asked. Lestrade sighed and told him before heading to the house.

_All of the other reindeer __  
__used to laugh and call him names. __  
__They never let poor Rudolph __  
__join in any reindeer games. _

"Hey Freak," Sally grinned. John sighed; sometimes Sally was so irritating. Well, she was irritating all the time. Sherlock ignored her and went to walk past. Sally stepped in front of him. "Where do _you _think you're going, Freak?"

"Upstairs," Sherlock replied, trying to get past again. Anderson had noticed him and came up next to Sally, helping to block the doorway.

"We don't need your help here, Freak. So why don't you go home and do whatever Freaks do," Anderson suggested, making a shooing motion. John bristled; this seemed crueler than normal.

"Why don't you just move? Lestrade asked us to come," John tried to make his voice sound calm. He didn't really want to be in a fight before Christmas.

"We don't need your help. We already figured out who it was," Sally said, smirking.

"Oh really. Who was it?" John's patience was wearing thin.

"The neighbor. Apparently the poor girl couldn't save her kid, anyway, we cleaned up the scene and there's nothing for you to do," Anderson gloated.

The last sentence got Sherlock's attention, "You moved the body? _Why _would you do that?"

"Yes, we moved the poor girl because we closed the case. So go home, Freak," Sally sounded so smug about solving the case before Sherlock got there that John had to resist the urge to hit her.

"You two are such idiots. It wasn't the mother and you just ruined the scene before the one person who can actually solve cases got there," Sherlock was using his 'I'm better than you are' voice and it clearly wasn't helping the situation. John had realized that it was one of Sherlock's defenses and opened his mouth to stop them from fighting. He had clearly decided to say something to late, because Sherlock was on the ground clutching his nose.

John stared blankly at Sherlock (whose nose had started to bleed) for a second before he realized what had happened. Anderson had punched Sherlock. _Anderson _had punched _Sherlock._

"What the hell is wrong with you? I understand being jealous that someone is smarter than you. I can even forgive some of the taunting, but _punching _someone? When has that ever solved anything?" John hissed and gave them his best death glare. Sally looked like she was going to leave, but Anderson stopped her with a glance.

"Defending your boyfriend, John?" he smirked. "Why would you ever want to defend, let alone _date_ a _Freak?_"

That did it for John. With a scream he launched himself onto Anderson. He gave him a bloody nose and a black eye before Lestrade dragged him off.

"_What _is going on here?" he demanded. John noticed that Sally had backed off slightly. Her eyes were wide; she clearly hadn't expected that.

"John randomly attacked Anderson," Sally claimed.

John scoffed, "Yeah, right. That's definitely what happened. They started it. We were trying to go upstairs and Anderson punched Sherlock."

Lestrade sighed, "Do I have to watch you two _all _the time? Come on. Let Sherlock upstairs."

Anderson glared and went to stand by Sally, "Have fun studying the body, Freak."

John grabbed Sherlock and dragged him upstairs before he punched both of them again.

"Let me see your nose," John ordered when they were alone.

Sherlock slowly moved his hand. "It's stopped bleeding. Anderson didn't break it," he announced and Sherlock nodded.

"Thanks," he muttered, looking down.

John tilted his head, "For what?"

"Defending me. Not many people do," he admitted.

"That's what friends are for," Sherlock seemed to consider that for a minute before looking around the room. Anderson had lied about moving the girl. She was still there, and Sherlock began to examine her. John sighed. This was going to be an interesting Christmas.

_Then one foggy Christmas Eve _ _Santa came to say: __  
__"Rudolph with your nose so bright, __  
__won't you guide my sleigh tonight?" _

_Then all the reindeer loved him __  
__as they shouted out with glee, __  
__Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, __  
__you'll go down in history!_


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Could I be any more behind schedule? Don't answer that... Anyway, here is chapter 4.

Darmed- Great to know that I'm being stalked. I don't really mind, thought. It's nice to have someone review so quickly. :D

XMillieX- I really don't know who Santa is. Thanks and Anderson does deserve it.

Chapter 4

"Morning Sherlock," John muttered, stumbling down the stairs. They hadn't gotten back to the flat until pretty late. Sherlock had dragged him around following up leads on the case. "What are we doing today?" "I have to go out. You can do whatever you want," John raised an eyebrow but didn't ask what Sherlock was doing. He wouldn't get an answer anyway. "What time are you leaving?" John was already thinking of things that he could do. Maybe he would decorate the flat. "Right now," he announced, standing up and grabbing his coat. "Goodbye, John."

"Bye," he called, walking into the kitchen to make some tea.

"I'm back," Sherlock called. John hurriedly finished placing ornaments on the tree and flopped onto the couch.

"Hey," he responded nonchalantly.

"I think I might-" Sherlock broke off, staring at the decorations. "John, what did you do to the flat?"

"I decorated it. You're supposed to decorate for Christmas," John said, ignoring Sherlock's tone.

"Why?" Sherlock was whining again.

"Because it's Christmas. It's just something you do at Christmas," Sherlock sighed and began to sulk.

"I'm not taking anything down."

Sherlock continued to sulk and John ignored him.

Finally. The package was here. John was out on a date with Sarah (their relationship had been going downhill and John was trying to fix it), so he would have at least a few hours to set up.

"Sign here, please,' the delivery man offered him the clipboard and pen. Sherlock quickly signed and handed it back. "You must really care about her." Sherlock nodded and the man left. He ripped open the bigger box and went looking for a good spot.

"Hey, John. How was your date?" Sherlock asked as John came in the door.

John paused in confusion for a minute. When had Sherlock started to care about his dates? Oh well. It was probably nothing. "Uhg. It was _ok_. The movie she wanted to see was _horrible,_" he complained.

"Hm," Sherlock responded.

"I am _so _tired," John announced walking towards his room. "I'm going to bed."

"Good night John."

"Night, Sherlock," he yawned.

_On the fist day of Christmas_

_my true love sent to me_

_A Partridge in a Pear Tree_

"Good morning, John. How are you?" Sherlock called when he heard John's door open.

"I'm good. Better than-" he paused. "Sherlock, why is there a _tree _in the flat?"

"Don't you remember putting it up? You said it was for Christmas. Are you loosing your memory?" Sherlock asked, looking over at John.

He sighed and face palmed, "Not the Christmas tree. _That _one." He points to the other tree.

"Oh. That one," he replies.

"Yes that one. Now, what is it doing in the flat? And is that a _bird _in it? Never mind. I don't want to know what crazy experiment you're doing now. Just hurry up and finish it. I don't want a bird flying about our flat."

"Ok." John looked at him in surprise. Was he agreeing to speed up an experiment? This morning was getting too crazy…


End file.
